Of Wizards and Elflings
by TheSoliloquy
Summary: Gandalf Greyhame, powerful istar, wise wizard, would always be reduced to childish play by a certain little Elfling... Four oneshots, from birth, to storytelling, to giggling, to comforting.
1. Leaves and Green

**Title: **Of Wizards and Elflings  
**Characters: **Revolves around a little Legolas and Gandalf, but contains Thranduil, the elvenqueen, Arwen and appearances of others.  
**Summary:** Gandalf Greyhame, powerful istar, wise wizard, would always be reduced to childish play by a certain little Elfling... Four oneshots, from birth, to storytelling, to giggling, to comforting.  
**Disclaimer:** You know the drill, Lord of the Rings and characters and whatnot don't belong to me (except maybe the healer.)  
**A/N:** Right still on holiday, I think I'm on a roll writing Starcrossed. I've covered about three chapters in one week! Not posting them yet though... and these four chapters were inspired by Gandalf's thoughts in one of those chapters. I won't tell you the thoughts, but it's kinda easy to guess... Read on!

p.s. I know that newborn babies are not able to laugh, only smiling slightly, and even then its only gas, but come on, this is a newborn **elfling**! The possibilities are endless. I could have had it sprout wings and horns and start to hump a lamppost or something...

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**  
Of Wizards and Elflings  
**Leaves and Green

A king anxiously paced the hallway, his blue robes flowing streamline behind him as, yet again, he spun on his heels to resume in the opposite direction, muttering under his breath. Only one other was present, standing in the shadows against the wall, and looking amused with it all.

"I do not think," Gandalf began around his pipe. "That pacing will help matters, dear Thranduil."

The elvenking jumped at the sound of the wizard, so lost in his worry that he'd forgotten his friend even stood there. He sighed, running a hand through his golden hair but resuming his pacing nonetheless.

"I am anxious, Mithrandir." He admitted, folding his hands behind his back, only to throw them in the air a moment later. "Valar, I have faced armies ten times bigger than ours, and even then had not been so worried!"

Gandalf smiled kindly, stopping the king's pacing with a hand.

"It is but a normal feeling for a father." He reassured. "I hold no doubt that your father had been the same at your birth."

But Thranduil had not heard his last sentence, as the mere mention of his newfound fatherhood was enough to plaster his face into a sloppy grin.

"Ai, my own son." He breathed happily, before backtracking at the wizard's stern look. "I mean elfling. Of course, an elfling."

Gandalf sighed once more, opening his mouth only to be cut off by a blood-curdling scream emitted from the single room on the hallway. Thranduil immediately surged forward, seeking to aid his wife, but found a firm, wooden staff blocking his path.

"Away from that door, good king." the Istar ordered calmly, not lowering his staff even when the elvenking's shoulders slumped and he turned away. "I assure you your skilled healers will secure the safety of both your wife and child. In the meantime," Gandalf finally brought back his staff, clapping his hands together. "Have you a name in mind?"

But again Thranduil was not listening, instead he had launched into a panicked rant and began again to pace.

"But what if something was to go wrong? What if they have need of us whilst we banter out here? What if it is the wrong time to be having an elfling? The spiders-" At this the king froze, and brought his hands up to his face in horror. "Ai Valar! The spiders! This is certainly not the time for an elfling!"

He went hurrying back towards the door, but was again stopped by the staff.

"Calm yourself, Thranduil! Will you race in there and push the elfling back?" Gandalf snapped forcefully, before softening his voice.  
"You see this leaf?" he motioned towards a leaf, floating down from an open window. "It represents life, and with life, how is it that this is not the time?"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the fallen leaf for a moment, frowning intensely, but eventually he relaxed and smiled weakly at Gandalf.

"How just: the beginning of a new life." he commented quietly, resignedly leaning back against the wall.

"Now," Gandalf continued. "Perhaps a change of topic is due. Have you an idea for a name?"

Thranduil sighed heavily, shaking his head sadly.

"You haven't a name?" Gandalf exclaimed incredulously. " Surely you have at least decided on his ceremonial robes?"

"Of course!" The elvenking replied defiantly. "They shall be as mine were... Green."

" Ah, green." Gandalf smiled as he tasted the word, before cocking an eyebrow at his elven friend. "That is the colour of peace."

Thranduil nodded absently, before realising what the wizard had meant. "It is the dawn of peace." he murmured happily, brightening at once.

"Precisely." Gandalf's eyes were twinkling, and the two shared relaxed smiles as, finally, the door opened to reveal one healer.

"Mithrandir." he greeted the wizard with a graceful bow before turning to the king, a soft smile gracing his lips. "A son, my lord."

Thranduil's eyes widened as the healer turned to lead him inside, seizing Gandalf's arm and dragging him also as he stepped through to a room, where all was white. Why that was, Gandalf had never asked, but secretly thought it unreasonable to have white covers in a birthing room. The elvenqueen sat propped in the midst of them, leaning tiredly back against many pillows. She didn't seem to see them until they'd crossed the room to her bedside, and even then she only smiled at them, before nodding to one side of the room. There stood a healer, and in his arms a wrapped bundle of cloth, and in a hollow in the folds, a small face peeked out.

Thranduil was already moving towards the healer, and the bundle, totally in awe as the healer held out his son. It was rare to see the elvenking so childlike, but even so, they all smiled as he tentatively took hold of the bundle, cradling the little elfling in his arms like a priceless ornament. Thranduil looked down at his newborn son, taking in the rosy cheeks, the button nose, the wisps of golden hair, and the crystal blue eyes. Tears of joy sprang to the king's eyes as he looked up at the others.

" He has my eyes." he told them happily, seeming more and more like an elfling, despite his many millennia's

"And your nose." The elvenqueen added, sinking back into the pillows.

"But your hair." Thranduil replied defensively, clearly glad that his son possessed some of his mother.

"He has barely any, Thranduil." The queen murmured, already half in sleep, and Gandalf chuckled, patting her hand lightly as Thranduil crossed the room towards them.

"Gandalf, Mellon nin?" he enquired, offering the tiny elfling to him, but before Gandalf could lightly refuse, the small bundle had already been carefully placed into his arms.

His protests were immediately silenced when he looked into the small face, and his lips curled into a smile. Two, big, cobalt blue eyes blinked up at him, as the prince's lips formed into an 'o', and the newborn elfling seemed just as in awe with the wizard, as the wizard was in him. _This one shall grow to be strong and handsome_, Gandalf thought to himself, _he shall make many an elfmaid swoon. The little prince gurgled happily, reaching up his small arms towards Gandalf's face_.

Thranduil sat by his wife, stroking her hand softly as he looked lovingly at her. "As beautiful as his mother." He murmured, kissing her knuckles.

"He is already taking after his father." Gandalf grumbled, as two tiny fists curled into his beard and tugged, and the little prince squealed in laughter and delight.

* * *

Elves from the far corners of middle-earth were gathering at Mirkwood for the naming ceremony of the newborn, crown prince, and Gandalf found himself sat beside Arwen Evenstar and Lord Elrond, whilst on his right was Celeborn, lord of Lothlorien.

It was not long before the beginning of the ceremony, and so as the elves began to take their seats, and the king, queen and Lady Galadriel were busy preparing, the little prince had been given to the four for the time being.  
The little elfling seemed unperturbed as he lay cradled in Arwen's arms, gurgling happily and clapping his hands together as she cooed to him. He was indeed wearing small robes of a magnificent green colour, marked with rich embroidering, but his feet had been left bare, and now he squealed in delight as Arwen tickled them.

"He has the eyes of his father." Celeborn commented; his rich voice softened.

"But the hair of his mother." Elrond added, smiling warmly as the little prince caught hold of his finger and gripped it curiously.

Gandalf chuckled to himself. It took only a little elfling to get these elves of power in awe. It was well that the fronts of wisdom had slipped, but it wasn't long before the time came for the ceremony, and the queen took the little prince gurgling away.

The gardens of Mirkwood were completely silent as the elves, and the one wizard, watched silently as the lady of light came to stand before them, cradling the little prince in her arms.

"At the fall of evil," Her melodic voice boomed. "Life is found... and we are all reminded of what we had once fought for."

The king and queen stood behind and to the left of her, watching with a slight sense of pride as Lady Galadriel raised their son, and the little prince gurgled on, blissfully unaware of what was happening.

"The crown prince of Eryn Galen has been born, and let us all join together in welcoming to this world," She paused for a short moment, a smile on her lips as she lowered the still gurgling prince. "Legolas Greenleaf."

Through the cheers, the wizard winked at the king.

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Review! Only three more to go...


	2. Baths and Tales

**A/N:** In this, Legolas is the elvish equivalent to a 3 year old human. I won't delve into elvish ages, I'll just confuse myself. In response to reviews (namely eiluj) I'm not sure when I'm setting this. Jackson gave Legolas' age as 2931, but an article on the internet proves he's less than 1000. Plus, I completely forgot about Celebrían! Hmm. Oh well, I wont be needing anyone except the main 2 in the rest of the chapters. I'd meant this to be a few centuries after the fall of Sauron, but I wanted Arwen to have been born... Ah, I think I really have confused myself :S This was only after boredom, so I admit I didn't put much thought into it. Boredom is also the reason for the capitalization mistakes, I'm incredibly lazy. I realise Legolas more likely inherited his hair from his father, but I think Christopher Tolkien suggested that dark-haired elven descriptions may have not been meant for Sindarin as well. Golden-haired Sindarin elves may not have been mentioned, but they don't all have to be silver-haired, right? **All** your reviews are great! Read on...

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**Of Wizards and Elflings  
**Baths and Tales

_Kitchen. Kitchen. Kitchen. Nay, that is a bathroom. Kitchen. Kitchen. Kitchen. Nay, that is another bathroom. Kitchen. Kitchen. Kitchen. And another... How many blasted bathrooms does Thranduil own?_ Gandalf Greyhame threw his arms up in frustration, before standing with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the hallway. He was lost in the home of his friend. How dignified. The temptation to give up was great, but just as he was about to turn back, a crash emitted from one room, far down the hallway on his right. He smiled and adjusted his grip on his staff as he strode towards it. _This must be it_. He winced as another crash sounded, and a panicked exclamation followed in haste. _Yes_, he thought as reached for the door handle,_ this is most certainly it_.  
But before his hand had even touched the handle, the door flew open to reveal a somewhat flustered elfmaid, her tousled hair escaping from their braids.

"Mithrandir!" She exclaimed with relief, seizing his outstretched arm and dragging him inside. "I am in dire need of your aid!"

"My aid?" The Istar repeated, his brow creased- or rather, creased further than what was normal for a wrinkled, old wizard- in confusion, but what he saw was enough to quell his questions.

The Crown Prince Greenleaf, dressed only in a kind of clothing that had arm and leg holes yet left his arms and legs bare, sat on the floor, with pots and pans spread about him, and something that must have once been a magnificent cake now smeared on his face, arms and legs. The little prince, however, was grinning happily as he held his chocolate hands out in front of him and showed them proudly to the wizard.

"Gandaff 'ook!" He exclaimed in glee, holding his hands higher.

Gandalf sighed, turning back to the maid.

"Have no worry, Lelani," He reassured her, patting her shoulder. "I shall take care of Greenleaf."

_Ai, I have become a sitter of babies_. But by the time he began to regret his words Lelani had already beamed her thanks, and hurriedly gone to fetch a mop. Gandalf grimly turned back to the little elfling, regarding the Prince of Mirkwood with apprehension; the prince's big, wide eyes stared back, until finally the wizard gave in and swept forward.

"What have you been doing, little Greenleaf?" He enquired warmly, and the elfling picked up a wooden spoon to bang it loudly on a pan in demonstration.

"Paying!" He announced happily. Gandalf frowned. Paying? Ah, playing.

"Come now, Thranduillion," He chided, reaching down to Legolas. "have you been snacking on cake?"

Legolas nodded eagerly, showing his hands again. "Messee." he stated.

"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "very."

He picked the little prince up and set him on his hip, grimacing slightly._ I must remember to wash these clothes_, he thought grimly as he strode from the kitchen with the squirming Legolas. The little prince eventually found himself a comfortable position, laying his small head on the wizard's shoulder and wrapping his small arms around his neck, and then began singing.

"Hmmm-mmm, da da." Legolas sang, provoking a small chuckle from the Istar.

_Argh, where were the bathrooms again? Ah, yes._ He turned into a bathroom, setting the still singing prince on a wooden chair before turning to the bath._ Water. Pump. Ah, here we are._ He bent and, as much as his back protested, filled the bath with water, before turning to the little prince, who was now humming and idly swinging his legs.

"Whatchoo dooin' Gandaff?" He broke off to ask the wizard curiously.

"Stand." The wizard ordered, and Legolas slid from the chair to stand in front of him.

Gandalf knelt down in front of the little prince, frowning deeply as his eyes scoured Legolas' small body. _Now, how does this come off? Ah, buttons._ He quickly undid them, cursing mentally at how small they were, and wondering why an all-powerful wizard, such as himself, was cursed with a body far past it's prime.

"Up." Legolas obediently raised his arms, and Gandalf pulled off the clothing to leave the little prince standing naked.

"In." Legolas tiptoed tentatively to the water-filled basin, dipping one toe inside and squealing when it came into contact with the liquid. Gandalf sighed resignedly "Come now, little Greenleaf, we haven't all day."

The little prince hopped in with a tiny splash, laughing in delight as he sat down with a 'plop' at the bottom. Gandalf inwardly groaned. _I shall have to kneel again._

"Gandaff old." The little prince giggled, as the wizard descended painstakingly to his knees, but Gandalf said nothing, instead choosing to ignore the comment by dipping a sponge into the water. _Thranduillion is right; this lack of action has left my bones weary._

"Gandaff!" Greenleaf protested loudly as the wizard began scrubbing at his chocolate-covered face, pouting deeply when Gandalf ignored him and moved onto his arms.

"Cleanliness is a virtue, little prince." The wizard remarked, gently tipping Legolas' nose with the sponge.

"Reawee. Gandaff?" The little prince asked curiously, and in his wide eyes there was only innocence; he seemed remarkably unaware of the fleck of soap that now adorned his nose.  
It took a moment for the wizard to work out what he had said.

"Yes, really."

Gandalf finally set the soap aside with a triumphant smile; the little prince was now spotless.

"Look, I've seen none cleaner." Legolas beamed, and the wizard chuckled as he picked up a towel. "Come on now, Legolas."

Legolas stood, dripping water as Gandalf quickly wrapped his wet form in the folds of the towel, and gently lifted him from the basin to stand on the chair. The elfling began humming again as the wizard dried him, towelling his golden hair and chafing his arms. _He is a true elf... they never seem to stop singing. I would have thought they never did, if I had not seen them asleep._

Finally, with another quick scrub at Legolas' face, Gandalf scoured the bathroom for clothes, and found none. _You are becoming forgetful in your old age, old wizard._ In the end he had to compensate by wrapping the little prince in a blanket, even using it to hold his arms by his side; all that was visible of him was his face, calves, and feet.

"There we are." Gandalf muttered to himself as he stepped back to admire his own handiwork, and Legolas looked down and giggled at his makeshift clothing. "We shall get your clothes from your room."

And with that he picked the little elfling up, balancing him on his arm and against his shoulder, and went back out to the hallway to attempt to find the crown prince's room.  
_Room. Room. Room. Nay, that is yet another bathroom! Room. Room. Room. Nay, that is the same kitchen you were in before. Look Lelani is still cleaning up. Room. Room. Ro- ooh._ A smile crept onto his lips as he gazed into the large library, where a cushioned chair sat in front of a roaring fire. It was tempting. It was very tempting. He stood there pondering his options for a moment. _I could roam the hallways only to find more and more bathrooms, or I could sit with the prince in that chair, in front of that magnificent fireplace...  
_  
Smiling to himself, he strode further into the room, soon realising the prince was once again humming over his shoulder. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as sat down heavily in the chair and pulled the prince to sit in his lap, still wrapped firmly in the blanket cocoon. Legolas' small mouth had opened into an 'o' of awe, and his big, cobalt eyes seemed to dance in the firelight, blending between shades of blue.

"Stowee!" He squealed, bouncing up and down despite his woollen restraint. Gandalf sighed; what kind of story would he tell the Crown Prince of Mirkwood? _Ah, perhaps a child-proof version of the great battle.  
_  
"In-" He paused and waited as the little prince squirmed, huddling closer into him, and resting his small head on the wizard's chest. "In a land much alike our own, a great sorcerer of evil conjured three sets of rings.

"Nine went to the race of men, each great kings of their kingdom.

"Five went to the dwarves, great miners and treasurers of gold.

"And three went to the race of elves, the fairest and wisest of them all." At this he risked a glance downwards to see Legolas wearing a grin.

"But another was forged in secret, and it was for the sorcerer himself." The little prince gave a small 'eek'. "With this ring he created his own army, larger and fiercer than any other,

"and so the races of Middle-earth united together to face his villainy. An army, thousands strong, marched onto Mor- erm, Morilith." He quickly backtracked, not willing to face the Elvenqueen's wrath if she found out about this little storytelling session...

"Haoo manee?" Legolas asked with a tiny yawn. Gandalf smiled._ Not long now…_

"A great many, little Greenleaf." He told the young elfling, sinking further back into the armchair.

"Now where was I? Ah, yes. They marched to Morgilith, and under the shadow of it's mountain they fought long and hard,

"and then finally the sorcerer joined the battle. He was large and armoured, with a great helm of iron on his head, and none could defeat him." The little prince seemed to be leaning further and further into his chest. "And then the great king of, erm, Gonhilm fell, and hope began to fade,

"until the heir to Gonhilm, _ahem_, Isileum, stepped forth and wielded his father's sword, and swinging in a mighty arc, he cut the ring from the sorcerer's hand and so the sorcerer was slain."

Gandalf paused, wondering how to phrase the ending. "But in the hubbub of the aftermath, the ring and Isileum were lost, and so the ring remains thus."

Gandalf glanced down at the small prince, now fast asleep against him, his eyes half-lidded in elven dreams, and chuckled lightly.

"And so a fitful peace was made, and..." He heaved his own yawn. Did he ever think about finding Legolas' room? The thought seemed silly now; the chair seemed much too comfortable to leave. "and all... li-" Another yawn. "lived... happily..."

-  
When the Elvenqueen entered the library, some two hours later, she found her young son fast asleep in the lap of a softly snoring wizard, and she smiled.

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**Apologies if you can't understand what Legolas is saying, pronouncing his lines out loud as they appear helps. I based his speech on my little brother (3 years old) and he isn't exactly the best talker... The constructive criticism from the last chapter was amazing, and will still be much appreciated! Review! Two more...  
**


	3. Sticks and Banquets

**A/N:** Sorry the update for this fic took me a while. I'd actually had half this chapter done since my last post in October '09, but just hadn't finished. See if you can spot the famous quotes!

**Disclaimer: **Contains a_ minuscule_ amount from Finding Nemo and Oliver Twist each.

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**Of Wizards and Elflings**  
Sticks and Banquets

Never before had Gandalf ever experienced the absurdity of his current predicament, and never before had he met a more curious child... or elfling for that matter.

"Look, Gandalf, look!" The small prince tugged forcefully at his sleeve, bringing his attention to yet another plant. This time it displayed an array of colours, in comparison to the blue's, red's, green's, pink's, purple's and yellow's he'd been shown so far and the rows of insipid weeds in which he was forced to feign interest.

"My favorite so far." The wizard told Legolas, plastering a fake smile onto his face. The crown prince beamed at him, his small, dirt-smudged face lifting dramatically before he turned back and pointed to a spot in the flowerbeds.

"Look, Gandalf!" He cried, bounding off to take a closer look. Gandalf sighed; it was another red. "Gandalf, come on!"

The old Istar rose wearily to his feet, already preparing another smile, when suddenly Legolas' voice rose in height and excitement.

"Gandalf, quick!" He yelped, practically jumping on the balls of his feet as he crouched down. Gandalf tried taking his time to approach the subject of the little prince's interest, but his plan was foiled when Legolas ran to seize his hand and dragged him along. "Look!"

Gandalf blinked down at the object, his patience wearing thin with every passing second. _Ai, this elfling will be the death __of__ me._

"That," he said, "is a stick, Thranduillion."

Legolas was now quite literally bouncing up and down, his head bobbing so quickly that Gandalf found it hard to focus on his lit features.

"It is! It is!" He squealed in delight, bouncing even faster.

Gandalf reached out, and halted Legolas' bouncing before he became nauseous.

"Would you care to tell me," He began as calmly as he could. "Why a stick seems so interesting?"

"Becauseit''sallalone!" The little prince jabbered in a single breath, again beginning to bounce.  
"-andtakencareof."  
Gandalf blinked at him, trying to make sense of the unintelligible gibberish.

"But fear not," Legolas continued at the speed of normal Sindarin, "I shall take care of it." and with that he crouched down before the lonely stick and began crooning softly to it.

"I shall call you sticky, and you shall be mine," He murmured. "And you shall be my sticky."

The old Istar stood there for a moment, staring at the small elfling in utter disbelief. _This takes the love __of__ nature to extremes_, he thought to himself, before chuckling and crouching down next to the little prince.

"Come now, little prince." He said softly, "Your Nana and Ada will not want you to miss dinner."

But Legolas had begun whispering to the stick, giggling every now and then at a silent joke told by 'sticky'. _To the very boundaries __of__ extreme._

"What are you doing, Legolas?" Gandalf enquired curiously, becoming ever the wearier as Legolas' head whipped round towards him, and large, innocent blue eyes focused on him. Much too innocent.

"Nothing." The little prince chimed, turning back to the stick. Gandalf frowned as Legolas resumed whispering and giggling; it seemed to him that Legolas would glance mischievously over at him before breaking out in peals of laughter. And his secretive crouch did nothing to quell the wizard's suspicions. Gandalf had once thought of how Legolas Thranduillion would make many an elf maid swoon, long before when the little prince was newborn, yet the sight before him made him rethink his intuition. _Perhaps he will impress them with his amazing knowledge __of__ plant life,_ He watched the elfling, still giggling, _or his sense __of__ humour._

A sudden idea hit him.

"Legolas," He began innocently, "does, erm, Master Sticky require a meal? He does appear a mite thin."

Legolas ceased whispering, frowning thoughtfully at Gandalf for a moment before turning back to 'Master Sticky' and whispering something more.

"He _is_ a mite hungry." Legolas replied to the wizard, and with a triumphant smile Gandalf motioned for him to follow. Legolas leapt to his feet, pausing to scoop up 'sticky' before blindly following the Wizard, his attention fully on the small twig of bark in his cupped hands. The old Istar was forced to steer the little prince, not willing to risk the Queen's queries; doubtless there would be many if she found that her son had walked carelessly into a wall or two.

"Ah, they here, Thranduillion." The Elvenqueen herself told the King as the two eventually came to the dining hall, where in sat a magnificent table of oak, set with chair and elves upon them, each seeming to unintentionally compete in elegance and beauty, soft eyes watching the young Prince and Istar as they entered.

Clearing his throat in apology, Gandalf sat on the King's left, while the Elvenqueen set the Prince next to her, his own small plate before him. Legolas grinned happily around the table, before setting 'Master Sticky' beside his fork. Gandalf blanched, _not quite what I'd had in mind- well done, old Istar._ The King frowned curiously down at the stick, before throwing a questioning glance at the Istar- one which Gandalf pretended not to have seen- while the Elvenqueen merely smiled, delicately smoothing Legolas hair with a hand as the King stood.

"Well, fellow comrades and friends of my kin and others." Thranduill began grandly, booming voice echoing to even the furthest side of the table, "These past decades have brought us many things… wars… allies…enemies… gifts." Here he glanced down at his son with pure happiness, "and I cannot even begin to fathom how much it gladdens me that you all sit here before my table, alive and well. So, instead, I will simply implore you to empty my wine supply!"

Gandalf's chuckle was lost within the rest and- with a clap by the hands of Thranduill- the table began to overflow with food. _Perhaps a song should be written for such a gift_, Gandalf thought to himself, sipping his goblet of wine, _of food, glorious food. _He was anxious to try it.

"Three banquets a day," He heard one joyous elf boom to another, "My favourite diet!"

"Now, my dear Mithrandir," Thranduill captured Gandalf's attention, "Perhaps you would so kind as to shed light on this Master Sticky?"

Gandalf set the goblet back down, a sheepish smile beginning to form on his lips.

"Your son possesses a very, _ahem_, _strong_ love for nature." He informed his elven friend, "In fact, he spent all of today showing me just how strong his love is…"

Thranduill threw his head back in laughter, hand smacking his own knee as Gandalf frowned.

"So, my son has showed you, _as well_, eh?" He boomed, eyes twinkling with amusement, "I myself have only just recovered from my own 'tour of nature' a mere week ago! He will surely make a _fine _elf."

"Indeed." Gandalf murmured in grudging agreement, as relieved as he was not being the only one forced into the same _ritual._


End file.
